Eating Cheeseburgers
by WrittenSword
Summary: Short drabble for the prompt of having Miranda eat a cheeseburger. It's Miranda/Andy, so if femslash offends you, please don't read.


**A/N: **A short little fic written for the prompt: _"Andy/Miranda: Miranda eats a cheeseburger."_

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><p><strong>Eating Cheeseburgers<br>**_by writtensword_

"This is all they had," Andy said, sheepishly sliding the item, wrapped in wax paper, across the aluminum table.

Miranda eyed it with such scepticism and disdain, that Andy feared the food would spontaneously combust under her boss' intense glare. The editor-in-chief sat regally perched in the worn diner booth; angled, so her knees pointed outward, no doubt carefully avoiding to touch any more of the burger joint's interior than was strictly necessary. She still wore her thick, charcoal fur coat, and her hands rested elegantly in her lap, elbows close to her body, to keep her sleeves from brushing against the table surface. Her jaw joints flexed when she looked back up at Andy; lips pursing, readying for verbal assault.

"You cannot honestly expect me to eat anything produced by this... _establishment_," she spoke with her typical, almost deadly softness.

If Andy hadn't been so incredibly tired and starved, she would have probably sunk back into her seat, mumbled an undesired apology, and using her super magical assistant powers'', rushed to find the fancy lady across from her a three-star steak house, despite being stranded in this village in the middle of nowhere.

But her stomach growled and clenched up painfully, she was exhausted and grumpy, and her own burger, that she was still holding in her hand, felt warm and soft against her fingers. She was going to eat, and if Miranda considered anything but _Pastis_, or _Smith & Wollenski _too pedestrian for her delicate palette, she could just sit there and glare until weeds sprouted from under her posh ass.

"Miranda, we haven't eaten anything all day. If you prefer to starve yourself, fine, go ahead, but I'm not going to die out here just because you can't, even this once, get over yourself and eat a simple, fucking _cheeseburger._"

The fire that sprang to life in the older woman's eyes at her little speech, told Andy that she had most definitely gone too far. Her hunger and helplessness at being stuck with her overly difficult boss, god knows where, had overpowered her usual restraint, and given way to the accumulated frustrations of sixteen months of slavery, to flow, unbridled, past her tired lips.

She watched with slight trepidation how Miranda pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes impossibly more, pinching them to mere slits that still leaked the frightening, icy blue that had the habit of haunting Andy even in her dreams. Convinced that she was fired anyway after her outburst, Andy held Miranda's gaze, the stubbornness of not wishing to cry in front of the woman hardening her resolve.

While their eyes remained locked in a silent battle, Andy began to unwrap her food. She might as well eat, before she was kicked out into the wilderness. Her gaze unwavering, she brought the burger to her lips and took a hearty bite.

A sudden explosion of flavours forced her eyes closed, and she moaned when warm juice and mayonnaise poured into her mouth. Despite working at a fashion magazine, Andy barely ever went this long without eating, and finally sinking her teeth into this tasty, traditional food after the horrible day she'd had, was pure bliss.

The meat was perfect, and the cook's claim that they used real cheese at this place, was definitely true. Slowly Andy began to chew, savouring every bit of deliciousness before finally swallowing, and reopening her eyes.

Miranda's face had completely transformed. Her gaze wide, irises several shades darker than their usual blue; lips slightly parted, and her pale cheeks sporting the faintest, rosy blush. She stared at Andy's mouth in a strange, surreal trance, and suddenly Andy worried that the lack of food had done something to Miranda's head.

"Uhm... M-Miranda?"

Fired or not, she still cared for the editor, in a weirdly masochistic way. She knew she always would.

Miranda blinked her long lashes a few times, her gaze briefly flicking back up to Andy's, before falling to the table. She lifted a hand and carefully prodded the wax paper package in front of her, pulling at one edge to take a peek at the food that lay inside.

"It's all beef," Andy said quietly, still stunned by the sudden change in her boss. "They get the meat and cheese from a ranch a few miles from here. The bun is whole-wheat, and I made sure they used low fat mayonnaise on yours."

When Miranda looked back up, the way she subconsciously bit her bottom lip sent a shock through Andy's system. Miranda barely ever let her guard down, especially not in situations of high stress and unforeseen complications such as this. Watching Miranda fight her pride, and allow herself to give in to her physical needs and curiosity, was almost more delicious than the cheeseburger.

"It's really good," she tried to encourage further. Of course she couldn't come right out and tell Miranda to fucking eat already, Miranda never did as she was told, but Andy knew a trick or two to occasionally coax Miranda into the right direction. "All home-made. No processed food."

Hesitantly Miranda turned her attention back to the burger, and gently unfolded it fully from its wrapping. The way she carefully picked it up between her thumbs and index fingers, pinkies extended, was almost too comical, but Andy was gripped by the sudden thought that, at that moment, Miranda looked utterly adorable.

She almost dropped her own burger. _What the hell! Where did that come from?_

But then Miranda brought the dripping bun to her mouth, and with incomparable elegance, took a small bite.

_Yes. Fucking adorable! Holy shit!_

Andy tried not to gape, but when Miranda's eyes fluttered closed at the wonderful sensations against her tongue, the assistant felt her jaw go slack. Her lack of sleep and nourishment were totally messing with her head, she was sure of it. Why else would she feel the inexplicable urge to clench her thighs shut from watching Miranda Priestly chewing on a cheese burger?

When Miranda finally opened her eyes and swallowed, Andy quickly took another bite of her own food to hide her sudden unease.

As they continued to eat in silence, Andy shifted uncomfortably in her booth. Nevertheless, despite her brain screaming at her to look away, she still kept glancing over at the woman across from her and at how she ever so slowly devoured her meal. It was so bizarre to recognise Miranda's typical elegance, and how she sat straight and regal in her high fashion New York wardrobe, daintily bringing the burger to her lips, when suddenly every movement the editor did, appeared overly _human _to Andy, causing words such as 'endearing' and 'cute' to float up in the younger woman's head. She could feel herself blush.

_What is wrong with me?_

When she had finished her burger, Andy carefully wiped her fingers on a paper napkin, knowing she would definitely not get away with licking them off, regardless of how much she wanted to. She wasn't sure Miranda had forgiven her for her earlier outburst, and she really didn't feel like pushing her luck.

Just then, Miranda pushed the last piece of food into her mouth, and with a grace only possessed by queens and classic movie icons, she began to suck at her fingers. Andy's thighs closed on their own accord when her eyes followed a slender finger between perfect lips. She stared like a moron as Miranda carefully cleaned each digit, her eyes captured by the movement of the older woman's mouth, little tremors jolting through her when she spied the tip of Miranda's pink tongue.

Finally the older woman's hands fell back into her lap and Andy dragged her gaze up, and away from the hypnotising mouth. To her surprise, Miranda was staring straight back at her, an uncharacteristic softness around her eyes, and Andy felt her heart skip a beat or two when she arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Acceptable."

Andy was too preoccupied by her alarming physical reactions to fully be aware of the highest of praises in Miranda-terms, and she nodded dumbly, her feet shuffling nervously under the table.

"Now, you said there was someone who could offer us a _bed _for the night," Miranda said, the tiniest of smirks playing at the corner of her lips. Andy swore she must have imagined the way the older woman had stressed the singular form of the word 'bed'. Clearly it was just a figure of speech.

"Uhm... yes," she mumbled, not fully trusting her lingual capabilities at the moment. "The sister of the cook here, has a room that we... could stay in, uhm, until a car will hopefully pick us up tomorrow morning."

All of a sudden the fantasy of herself sharing a room, or god forbid, a bed, with Miranda, was hard to shake and Andy looked aimlessly around the empty diner, avoiding all chances to drown in the increasingly alluring blue gaze of her boss.

"Well then, let's get some sleep."

Miranda dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and stood, turning slightly as she waited for Andy.

"Aren't you coming?"

Something in those eyes clawed at Andy, and for some reason she felt very much like that cheeseburger, which had been so very trapped in Miranda's gentle grip, awaiting a slow, but delicious demise.

She rose from her seat, legs wobbly - it must have been the fatigue - and stepped to Miranda's side.

"Yes, Miranda."

_Fin_


End file.
